Free Borderlands: The Fallen by John Shirley Page B

with that last name around? Other people coming down from orbit, out here?”
    “Cal, huh? You can call me Roland. Naw, I haven’t heard of anyone else lately. I did see an explosion in the sky, if that’s what it was. Meteors—debris coming down. You get separated from your folks?”
    Cal nodded. “My dad came down ahead of us. In a DropCraft. My mom was in another lifeboat. We got separated …”
    Roland nodded. “Well kid, if I hear about ’em, I’ll tell you. But I wouldn’t want to give you false hope. They made it down alive, chances are …” He shrugged. “This is a mighty rough old planet. You know? My own partner got himself killed recently. And he was tough. McNee—the damn fool …” He turned around, hunkered, rooted through a box. Cal thought of taking the chance to run. But he was too tired, too hungry, and he was afraid to leave the firelight. Anyway, maybe it was true—maybe the guy wasn’t a bandit.
    On the other hand, he could be a psycho-killer, just playing cat and mouse. Planning to murder Cal later and do something horrible with his body. With the reputation this planet had—you never knew.
    Roland turned around, tossed Cal a package. “Eat that. When you expose the stuff inside to air, it’ll suck up some moisture. Turn into something like bread and ham. Synthetic protein mostly, and vitamins, but it’ll do you good …”
    Hands shaking, Cal tore the package open, and immediately the little rectangle, no bigger than a candy bar, expanded to the size of a poorboy sandwich in his hands. “Never saw one of these. Camp food, huh?”
    “Beats skag meat. But you can eat most of the local four-legged critters in a pinch. Chow down, I’ll get you some water.”
    Cal chowed down, and though the food varied from tasteless to mildly disgusting, he felt better right away. He hadn’t realized how shaky, how empty, how scared he’d been, till he was able to sit by a fire and eat something.
    Roland sat near him, watching, elbows on his knees, clasped hands covering his mouth. Roland didn’t like to show when he was smiling, but Cal could tell he was.
    “You some kind of professional soldier?” Cal asked, when he’d eaten.
    Roland passed him a canteen. “Yeah, I guess. I hire out to people when I feel like it. Take a mission here or there. Scavenge what I can. Used to work for one of the corporation armies. For Atlas—Crimson Lances.” He shook his head. “Don’t care for that anymore. They’re not much better than the bandits.”
    Cal drank deeply from the canteen, amazed at how much flavor there was to water when you were really thirsty. “Wow. I needed that.”
    “You think your people are looking for you?”
    “If they’re alive—they’re looking for me. That’s whyyou gotta get me to civilization—if you want the reward.” Cal assumed there was a reward for finding him. There should be. How could there not be?
    “A reward? For a scrawny little kid like you?”
    “Hey, I’m not scrawny! Anyhow, even if I were—what’s that got to do with it?”
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Living here, we value people for how they can survive. Scrawny doesn’t usually live long—though those crazy Psycho Midgets can surprise you. They don’t give up easy …”
    “But I am a survivor!” Cal insisted. Now that he was no longer scared of Roland, he didn’t like getting ribbed by him. “I beat those skags and spiderants today!”
    Roland tossed a stick on the fire. It flared up a little, adding yellow highlights to his face, and to the goggles on his head. “Kid—you lie down, get some rest. We’ll check out your story tomorrow. But chances are, I’m gonna take you to Fyrestone. Little settlement a ways from here. I’ve gotta pick up a Scorpio Turret there anyhow. And send a message to McNee’s woman …” He shook his head sadly. “Anyhow, it’ll take a while, getting there. I’m gonna give you my shield, help protect you on the trip.”
    “A shield? You don’t